Creative
by Madame Dee
Summary: Had his war done this to Granger? The light side had fought him for decades and yet they had always remained annoyingly 'good'. Hermione Granger had adapted to it, and was ready to fight him for all she was worth.


**Okay, anyone who has been reading What The, is probably wanting to know what the hell I'm doing posting this and not another chapter. Sorry, lol, this idea was in my head and just had to be written out.**

**It's my first attempt at a Dark sort of story, lol, and my first ever one shot. Although, ideas and plans are already in my head to continue this story, although I don't know yet. **

**Please let me know what you think! I would appreciate it if you lay low on the flames, but if there's something you feel strongly about, then fire away I suppose, lol :3 I you like it, then feel free to say so in one of those lovely reviews ^_^ **

**It's rather random, but I hope you like it! **

**If you want to me to maybe continue it, then let me know and I probably will once I've finished my first story! (which hasn't got long to go btw!)**

**Madame Dee! xxxxx**

**Creative**

All Hermione Granger had left to do was stare. It was all she was physically and mentally capable of at that precise moment.

Everything had went as planned. She, Harry, and Ron had destroyed all of Voldemort's horcruxes, making him mortal again. However, Hermione had realised something horrible during the time Harry had taken during the final battle to explain all his 'shocking' and 'surprising' findings to the entire room. Voldemort clearly had made some of his own findings, and was more than happy to allow Harry his moment of 'victory'.

Whilst everyone's shocked eyes were glued to Harry Potter's form, Hermione took that time to look over at Voldemort.

He was a good actor. He knew when to hiss in anger at the right moments, and widen his eyes. But Hermone caught on to it with a horrible drop in her stomach.

His eyes. When Hermione had stared defiantly into them just before she apparated herself and Harry out of that frightening house earlier during their hunt, the snake's eyes hadn't nearly been such vivid a red as they were now.

Yes, they had destroyed his horcruxes. But they hadn't destroyed actual pieces of his soul. Hermione had been a bit wary about that fact to begin with, but had still went along with it in hope. At least they'd succeeded in making the man mortal again. But the pieces of soul trapped inside the objects had simply returned to the owner's body. It had strengthened him.

Not to mention, but Hermione saw the traces of glamour surrounding him. It had never been there before, so what was he hiding now?

By gods, they were probably the reason the Dark Lord won. The reason she was now knelt on the ground in the great hall with Harry's limp head rested on her lap. She calmly shut his glassy, emerald eyes. Maybe Harry would finally be with his parents. His Godfather. Lupin. Dumbledore. Maybe he could also finally apologise to Snape for being such a pain in the ass, when all the man had been trying to do was save Harry's life. And had done so over and over again.

Hermione tried her hardest to keep her breathing on the low. She struggled, but kept it in none the less. Her magic was desperate to escape her body and release it's rage on those celebrating around her.

Yes, she was beyond angry. And she was sure that her sadness would eventually catch up with her, but she wanted to hold on to that anger at the moment. Her eyes burned a fierce gold with it and the mad energy pulsated around her. But everyone in their glory, didn't seem to notice. They were too busy hopping about and taunting all those on the losing team.

Speaking of that...

"Mudblood."

Hermione was forced to take another deep breath as she felt her left pinky twitch a little.

With one final stroke through Harry's ever messy hair, she lifted his head to place it gently on the floor, her dirty, bloody cardigan the only thing she could use for a pillow.

Standing slowly, Hermione kept her head down and saw some of the dried blood flake off her ripped jeans. One of the legs had been wripped straight up to her mid thin, thanks to Fenrir Greyback making a go at her leg. The other was covered in holes. Her black t-shirt had a large gash across her stomach and was splattered with pieces of dirt and blood. Through the gash, you could spot the cut given to her. Luckily, due to her flexibility, the cut wasn't too deep and only stung a little. Her delicate features on her faces were given a long cut from her forehead, down just past her temple, and she had a healing burst lip.

Her trainer's were funnily enough, still perfectly in tact, apart from being covered in dirt.

She turned so she would be facing the offending person straight on.

"Dolohov."

Hermione's head raised to look at him and into his eyes. A small smirk was on her face. What a perfect opportunity to release some of her pent up anger.

Dolohov looked a little taken aback by her expression. He expected her to be in tears and broken with her defeat. But obviously he was wrong. This wasn't the same girl he'd faced at the Department of Mysteries. This was a woman. Her dark, curly hair was at large and reached her hips, but not frizzy. It cackled along with her energy.

Hermione's head cocked to the side. Sick amusement dansed in her golden eyes. "Are you here to fight, Dolohov? Or are you simply here to boast? Either way, it shall be a waist of my precious time."

Dolohov blinked. Her attitude was unnerving, but pissed him off none the less. Hermione knew how to push his buttons, and had yet to repay him for the lovely scar he'd given her when she was only a girl.

"Crucio!"

Hermione simply side stepped the curse. "Really? Nothing new?"

"You little bitch!" This time he sent something much more darker towards her. Dolohov was oblivious to the attention they'd gathered.

Everyone stopped what they had been doing to gaze at the new fight commensing. Most of the people left on the floor stared, afraid for Hermione. The rest, apart from one, looked on, eager to see the witch who had bested their every move over the years get taken down by one of their most powerful Death Eaters.

The one with the red eyes stared on, simply curious. He'd never seen someone so light act so dark. Not since Severus Snape anyway.

Hermione pouted at the spell he sent her way. She easily blocked it with a flick of her wand. She'd spent too much time up in the Black's family library not to know the counter curses to those that had been sent her way as of late. So much for a challenge. By gods she knew she needed one after this mess.

"Such a shame," Hermione muttered, but loud enough for Dolohov and the rest to hear her.

"Stubify!" _Bondus!_

Dolohov scoffed at her poor choice of spell and creativity. He easily deflected it.

However, his arms suddenly got trapped by his sides. And his legs locked together. He expected himself to loose balance and fall, but instead, he was lifted up slightly and was now left only on his tiptoes. The spell was clearly invisible, but it felt as if ropes had been tied around him and was sqeezing him tighter and tighter. And guess who controlled how tight they got?

Yup.

No one intervened. Too curious to see what goody two shoes Hermione Granger could possibly do to the big bad Death Eater.

Hermione's hand was spread out, and the closer her hand got to making a fist, the tighter the invisible ropes got. Hermione had placed her unneeded wand comfortably behind her ear.

The spell was rather dark.

Voldemort watched with a smirk on his face as Hermione stalked up close to Dolohov, who by now had gone a bit blue in the face. The man was clearly in agony. Hermione twitched one of her fingers and then there was a loud crack heard. Dolohov howled as two of his ribs broke. Voldemort was amazed. His war had done this to someone like Granger? Interesting. Everyone else on the side of light had remained sickeningly good. Granger, however, seemed to have adapted to the war. She fought for the side of light, but realised that getting a bit dark with her magic woud be required to fight the dark side. If everyone had done that, then maybe he would have actually lost. But no.

Maybe he should keep the mudblood?

She was beautiful in her anger and magic. It pulsated around her dangerously, and her eyes shined gold like his did red.

Another howl of pain, and Voldemort came out of his thoughts to see Dolohov's leg had bent in at an angle that shouldn't be physically possible.

Everyone was in total shock at her actions, and he made sure to send a mental message to all his Death Eaters, warning them not to interrupt the mudblood's show.

Hermione eventually reached Dolohov. The look of agony on his face was something Hermione would treasure. This was her little peice of revenge and she would enjoy it and think about the consequences later. She didn't often get to be impulsive.

She lent up onto her tip toes and whispered huskily into Dolohov's ear. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" Hermione walked so she was behind him. Her hand ghosted across his chest until it came to rest on his near shattered shoulder. She lent up against his back and spoke into his ear once again. This time her eyes found another. A pair of ruby one's. She smirked as she stared into them defiantly and again whispered. She knew that the snake could hear her, and she didn't mind in the least. "You see. You may have won the war, Antinon. But it doesn't mean I wont keep fighting, and trust me, I will use any means necessary. I _wont_ stop until I can go to sleep at night, knowing that each and every one of you is _dead_. Just like my family. My mentors. My friends. All those who you so ruthlessly murdered for your precious _snake_." Hermione took a step back. Her face was blank now, apart from the rage and determination in her eyes.

The wards had been broken down, so apparation was now possible. She sent another dirty look at the semi floating Dolohov before finally squeezing her hand into a tight fist.

A lot of people, even the Death Eaters, cringed at the horrific scream that left Dolohov's lips as his body shattered and parts of his innards opened up inside of him. Lovely.

His body dropped to the floor. His eyes almost hanging out of their sockets, and is mouth open in a silent scream.

Hermione took a step back, looking down at the body with no remorse at all. A couple of seconds later and she was gone with a loud crack. Harry's body leaving with her.

Voldemort still did nothing to stop her. She was quite the creative witch. He began to walk through the crowd, which automatically parted for him. Slowly, as he walked, the glamour he had been wearing slid off him. Instead, he was left looking like Tom Riddle again. Many thanks to his soul repairing. He looked to be in his mid thirties, many more thanks to magical aging. He was handsome, but they still shook in fear, his ruby eyes a sore reminder of who he was.

He smirked at the body. "Creative," he commented idly.

He would give the mudblood a week. And then the chase would begin. He had a new challenge, and would enjoy taking part immensely.


End file.
